Without You
by anonymus31
Summary: Summer after fifth year. Harry is wallowing in guilt, and not just for Sirius. He wonders about his feelings for a certain female friend, until a song on the radio helps sort his thoughts out. The story has taken a major left turn. You'll see what I mean
1. Without You

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own the song "Without You." The first one belongs to Ms. Rowling, the second belongs to Motley Crue.

Without You 

Harry was alone, locked in his room at Number Four, Privet Drive. He was dwelling on the events of just a couple of weeks ago, when he had led a group of his friends into the Department of Mysteries, only to find a trap. In the ensuing furball, every one of his friends that had accompanied him had been injured in some way or another.

In the end, his godfather, whom they had set out to save, in the first place only to find he wasn't actually there, died when he tripped and fell through the Veil. Harry was torn with grief over this.

But there was something else bothering him. Hermione, his best female friend, had been nearly killed, and his guilt focused on her nearly as much as it did on Sirius.

This was not what bothered him. No, what bothered him was that he did not know why he felt guiltier about her than any of his other friends.

It did not help that his cousin had left his radio on in the next room. Dudley always listened to the radio loudly, and sometimes he left it on when the Dursleys went out. When this happened Harry would invariably get blamed for turning it on.

Suddenly a song came on, which to Harry's complete surprise solved one of his problems, while creating several more.

Without you, there's no change  
My nights and days are grey  
If I reached out and touched the rain  
It just wouldn't feel the same

Without you, I'd be lost  
I'd slip down from the top  
I'd slide down so low  
Girl you'd never, never know...

Without you, without you  
A sailor lost at sea  
Without you, woman The world comes down on me

Without you in my life  
I'd slowly wilt and die  
But with you by my side  
You're the reason I'm alive  
But with you in my life  
You're the reason I'm alive  
But without you, without you...

Without you, my hope is small  
Let me be me all along  
You let the fires rage inside  
Knowing someday I'd grow strong Without you, without you  
A sailor lost at sea  
Without you, woman  
The world comes down on me

Without you in my life  
I'd slowly wilt and die  
But with you by my side  
You're the reason I'm alive  
But with you in my life  
You're the reason I'm alive  
But without you, without you...

I could face a mountain  
But I could never climb alone  
I could start another day  
But how many, just don't know  
You're the reason the sun shines down  
And the nights, they don't grow cold  
Only you that I'll hold when I'm young  
Only you...as we grow old

Without you in my life  
I'd slowly wilt and die  
But with you by my side  
You're the reason I'm alive  
But with you in my life  
You're the reason I'm alive  
But without you, without you...

He had one of those eerie, narcissistic moments where he thought the song was written just to help him in his time of distress.

He suddenly realized why he felt so guilty about Hermione. Somewhere in the nearly five years of friendship, he had fallen for Hermione. He experienced a moment of triumph at figuring it out, followed by one thought, repeated over and over:

_I'm so dead. Ron's gonna kill me!_

A/N: Just something that popped into my head. Sucks, dunnit? What do you expect from twenty minutes of writing? I may or may not extend it into a full-blown fic, and if anyone wants it, they can have it, just message me first.


	2. Home Sweet Home

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Wish I did, but if you put wishes in one hand and $#!+ in the other, which do you think will fill up faster?

A/N: Yet another chapter. slow clap Opeth doesn't exactly inspire my best work, so this will probably be complete crap. Hopefully I'm wrong. Also, I'll see how far I can keep the Motley Crue themed titles going with this fic.

**Chapter 2: Home Sweet Home**

Harry was disturbed from a restful sleep, featuring numerous dreams about a certain female friend (including one in such detail that he was sure it was clairvoyance.) by what he initially mistook for cannon fire. He had jumped from the bed and grabbed his wand by the time the sound had died away. Unfortunately, his feet had gotten tangled in his sheets. He was silently thankful that he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Whoa! It's just me, mate," said a very familiar voice. He almost flinched at it until he realized that Ron didn't know his new secret. He grabbed at the flesh tone blur that he assumed was Ron's hand, which pulled him up. Ron then handed Harry his glasses.

"Thanks," Harry said as he put his glasses on and looked around, expecting to see his other friend. "Ron, where's Hermione?"

Ron's face fell almost imperceptibly. "Avoiding me, I suppose. We had an argument last night."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at this. While arguments between his two best friends weren't exactly news, Hermione had never refused to be in the same room with him before. "What, pray tell, was this one about?" Harry asked.

Ron looked sheepish, "I kind of accused her of cheating--" he started, but was interrupted.

"First of all, when did you get together and why was I not told of this? And second, Hermione doesn't seem like the unfaithful type." Harry interrupted, angry at his friends for leaving him out of the loop, and for Ron insulting Hermione that way.

Ron looked puzzled, then bust out laughing. When he finally got himself back under control, he said, "Nah, nothing like that. To answer your question, we aren't together. You know as well as I do she's thrown up the 'friend block' in between us and her. No, I accused her of cheating at chess. She beat me, at my own game. No one's beaten me in almost ten years. When I tried to apologize this morning, well, I guess I must've said something wrong, because she appeared to be on the verge of accepting my apology, but then nearly ripped my head off. I think it's 'that time of the month' so you better be on your toes around her or you might end up missing a few appendages," Ron said gravely. "She's gone a locked herself in Percy's old room with Ginny, so I'm probably a dead man," he paused, then brightened. "Well, no sense dwelling on impending death, so I might as well enjoy a few last meals."

Harry smiled. Leave it to Ron to make light of a life-threatening situation. Or at least a situation where his bits were in a very real danger of being hexed off. Harry and Ron had both made more trips to the hospital wing than they cared to admit for not choosing their words carefully enough around Hermione, although while Ron usually made at least one trip every month, Harry only made the trip about once every other month.

He was shaken from his reverie by the appearance of a tall, willowy blond, normally possessing impossible beauty. Unfortunately at this point in time her features were slightly avian. Harry surmised that Fleur was madder than he'd ever seen her. He caught her muttering, "...those insufferable bints..." He had to fight the urge to laugh, particularly since they were passing the room that for the next several days was the domain of every guy's nightmare: the infamous 'Red Baron.'

When Hermione poked her head out he tensed. When he saw her smile he prepared to dodge whatever curse might come his way. Then he saw that the smile was genuine and he relaxed. Somewhat. Suddenly he was enveloped in a bone-cracking hug. He tried to reciprocate, but found his arms were pinned at his side. He was running out of oxygen.

"Hermione, I know you're happy to see me, but if you don't let go this could be the last time you see me alive. Then who'd stop you from killing Ron, huh?" She loosened her grip--barely. This was odd. All evidence pointed to this being a very dangerous time, but instead of the expected hexes, he was in danger of being smothered to death.

"Hermione, I would appreciate it greatly if you would release me and let me go get something to eat," Harry pleaded, noticing Ron's expression which was somewhere between rage and amusement. The girl finally let go. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He took this chance to survey her. While she wasn't a supermodel by any stretch of the imagination (for which Harry was immensely grateful, considering that most supermodels looked like bony crackwhores), she had all the right curves in all the right places. Though most people called her a 'Plain Jane,' Harry was only reminded of the Sammy Hagar song by the same name, particularly the lines '_And you can call her Plain Jane/But she's driving me insane!'_ Harry--and he assumed Ron as well--felt that while she wasn't exactly the feminine ideal, she was more real, and all the more beautiful for it.

He was once again shaken from his reverie by his stomach rumbling. He went downstairs with Ron where Mrs. Weasley gave him enough food to feed him for the rest of the day. As he started eating, Harry commented to Ron, "That was odd. I don't think I've ever seen Hermione act like that. Usually she lets go when I ask her to the first time," he said, _not that I'm complaining_ he added silently. After Harry was done with his meal, Hermione came downstairs, asking, "Have our O.W.L. results come in?"

Ron replied, "No, but they should be here soon."

Harry nodded, "They'll be her today in fact." He instantly knew this was the wrong thing to say. As soon as he saw the look on Hermione's face. He turned to Ron and resignedly said, "Go tell your mother to be ready to rush me to St. Mungo's," to which Ron gravely nodded and left the room.

Harry was saved from a trip to the healer's by something out the window behind him. Hermione had frozen and paled considerably. Harry was unpleasantly reminded of second year, when the basilisk petrified Hermione. Tearing his eyes away from his friend that just happened to be a girl, he turned around and saw them. Three bird shaped specks. They were getting bigger.

Wordlessly he got up to open the window to let them in. As the three owls swooped in, Ron came back into the room trailing a very worried looking Mrs. Weasley, who relaxed seeing that Harry was still intact.

Two of the owls had only one envelope, but the one in front of Ron had two. Harry figured the second one was Ginny's Hogwarts letter. Harry opened his envelope. Inside it was a parchment with his O.W.L. grades, along with his Hogwarts letter.

The grades were

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: D

Potions: E

Transfiguration: E

They showed each other their results. Which was another big mistake. Though Ron was careful to keep tight-lipped about Hermione's disappointment at not getting an 'O' in D.A.D.A., Harry was not so lucky. Hermione's previous irritation had not gone away completely, and upon seeing that Harry received an Outstanding in the one course that she didn't, her rage manifested itself on her face. Luckily both boys were very attentive to her mood at this point, and ran at the first sign of trouble.

It was an interesting few days, which were very enjoyable despite having to worry about Hermione's irritability.

\m/(oo)\m/

A/N: I decided to only have Ron greet Harry, instead of Harry and Hermione. The fic will follow the books, inasmuch as will work for this fic. As for Hermione, Ron's offhand comment led to so much more. If I used British phrases that would be dated even for the time that this takes place, blame that on Monty Python and HHGttG.

Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just put them in a review. If it has something besides just some general positive reaction, I will try to respond.

Finally, some of you may be wondering about two updates in a matter of hours. I've been working on this one off and on for about five days, so I only had some finishing touches to do. And for those who follow my other fic, "An American Wizard in Hogwarts," I really am serious that I will not update until I get nickname suggestions. At least for Matt.


	3. Kiss Me Deadly

Disclaimer: Did you know dyslexic Satanists sell their souls to Santa?

A/N: I got a few constructive reviews, along with being called a review whore. I don't care about that frankly. I didn't have any ideas on how to continue the story, and I hoped I could get inspiration from some of the comments in the reviews. Sometimes the most offhand comment can inspire a long chapter. It's not the numbers I care about--it's the content. Honestly, I could do without most of the reviews I receive. I don't give a _flying fuck_ whether or not someone thinks I'm a review whore. If I am, so fucking what? I want to improve my writing, and I need constructive criticism to do it. Nietzsche once said that the only purpose of mankind is to be surpassed, or something to that effect. I may think my writing is good, but that is tempered by two things: for one, I think it's good for something I came up with, and I've never had high regard for my writing skills; and for another, no one can accurately judge their own writing, because it was (hopefully) the best they could come up with at the time that they wrote it./rant That being said, I do apologize for the update where I asked for reviews. Won't happen again, I promise.

I actually considered abandoning this story, giving up on it. But I soldiered on, and here it is in all its steaming glory.

Also, I abandoned Motley Crue song titles very quickly. Instead, I'm drawing from 1980's Hard Rock and Heavy Metal in general. This one is a Lita Ford song.

**Chapter 3: Kiss Me Deadly**

"I FUCK LIKE A BEAST!"

Harry and Ron turned to stare at Hermione, who was wearing headphones, listening to one of her CDs. At least they thought she was wearing headphones. She was the last they looked, anyway. They couldn't tell now, as she was headbanging, causing her hair to fly about and obscuring everything from her chest up.

It was the last day in August, and the three friends were sitting in Ron's room, listening to some music of Hermione's. Hermione was listening to her portable CD player, because Harry and Ron heard the first song on the album she was currently listening to and refused to listen to any more.

Harry and Ron watched her for a few seconds, and then went back looking through the massive stack of CDs for something to listen to. "Number of the Beast?" Ron asked

"No," replied Harry. "Machine Head?"

"No. Billion Dollar Babies?" Ron responded.

"No. Break Like the Wind?"

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't like Spinal Tap?" Ron cried. "Let's see here...How about Metal Health?"

"Nah. British Steel?"

"God, no! Ace of Spades?"

"Maybe later. Rust in Peace?"

"No. Black Metal?

"You're kidding, right? Right? Oh, so you're serious. In that case, I've gotta say no. How about Hall of the Mountain King?"

"No. Kings of Metal?"

"Sounds good. Play it."

They listened in silence for a while, snickering at the occasional lyric (You know, the ones that only GUYS find funny).

_May your sword stay wet_

_Like a young girl in her prime_

"That lyric is the reason I quit listening to Manowar," Hermione said in thoughtful tone of voice, startling Harry and Ron. "I'm not even sure how that CD got mixed in with the others. I could have sworn I left it at home," she paused. "Ironically, I started listening to them because of their disregard for subtlety," she shrugged. "Oh, well, I guess I'll them another shot," she muttered, almost to herself.

"Wait, let me get this straight," said Ron. "You quit listening to a band because of a little sexual innuendo? This from the girl who just shouted, and I quote, 'I fuck like a beast,' a few minutes ago. Does that make sense to you, Harry?" Ron asked.

"What was that? I'm still trying to get over the fact that you know the word 'innuendo,'" Harry said, dodging an orange pillow aimed at his head.

Shortly after they started the next CD that they had decided to listen to, the batteries in her boom box went dead. Hermione got up and went to the room she was staying in and returned with a small bag that she had gotten at Diagon Alley. She opened it and started pulling out batteries left and right, both AA and D.

"Er, Hermione, with all those batteries, some people might think you've got them for, er, _something else_, if you catch my drift," Harry said. Hermione blushed. Harry noticed this and muttered, "I'm not even gonna ask."

Ron, puzzled--as per usual when his two friends make allusions to muggle devices of any sort--asked, "What do you mean by that, Harry?"

"Trust me when I say you do not want to know. Well, you might, but I don't. I feel like I already know too much," Harry said, though secretly he was intrigued that Hermione had a wild side. Of course, he should have known already, considering the music she listened to. That, and the skin-tight leather pants she often wore, such as she was now. _And you can call her Plain Jane / But she's driving me insane!_ The thought came to Harry's mind unbidden.

"It's not like that, Harry," Hermione said, a little too late, and in a not altogether convincing tone.

Harry sarcastically replied, "Sure, I believe you," and gave her an exaggerated wink. Hermione flushed with irritation.

"Would someone _PLEASE_ explain to me what you're talking about?!" Ron shouted.

Harry replied, "I repeat--"

"WOULD YOU KEEP IT DOWN UP THERE?!" Mrs. Weasley called from the bottom of the staircase.

"As I was saying," Harry muttered, "You do not want to know. Trust me on that."

"I'm telling you it's not like that!" Hermione whined desperately.

"It's not like what?!" Ron shouted again.

"Fine--" Hermione began, but was cut off by Mrs. Weasley yelling at them from the kitchen.

"_DO I HAVE TO COME UP THERE? I'M TELLING YOU ONE LAST TIME TO __**BE QUIET!**_" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, causing both the windows and the door to rattle loudly.

"Fine, you're right Harry, it is like that," Hermione huffed.

"I'm really getting pissed off right about now. I'll ask again, would someone please tell me what you're talking about!" Ron exclaimed through clenched teeth.

"You really want to know?" Hermione hissed irritably. Ron nodded dumbly. Harry fervently shook his head, gesticulating wildly to indicate that he didn't want to know. Unfortunately, Hermione was between him and Ron with her back to him. He didn't trust himself not to shout if he were to say anything out loud right now.

"Okay, I'll show you," and she left the room.

Harry had the urge to turn and stare into a corner, but he couldn't look away from the still open door. It was like a train crash. He didn't want to see it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear his gaze from the door. He could hear the door to Percy's old room slam twice, each time accompanied by a new round of threats from Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione returned a few moments later with another bag, very similar to the one containing the batteries. She closed the door--without slamming it--and reached into the bag. Harry tried one last time to look away, and failed miserably. He noticed that she was turning a shade he'd rarely seen on a human face before, except perhaps on Ron, but that was the time he'd overdosed on hair growth potion and looked like Cousin It. Her hand came out holding a long red object roughly the size and shape of a police baton.

Ron was gobsmacked. "That's a...a...what is that anyway?"

"It's bloody intimidating, that's what," Harry responded without thinking. Hermione smacked him upside the head with it, returned to the bag, and returned the bag to her room.

"Ow! I think I might have deserved that," Harry muttered to the closed door.

When Hermione returned she said, "If either of you tell a soul about that, I'll sodomize you with your own wands. Or worse." With that they continued on as if nothing had happened.

As they listened to "Operation Mindcrime," Hermione picked up all of the batteries that she had strewn across the room.

The next morning was a mad scramble for everyone not named Hermione Granger. Though her morning wasn't all that easy. When she wasn't helping Harry, Ron, or Ginny find some book or assorted item of clothing, she was dodging them as they ran through the house at unsafe speeds.

They made it to the platform with barely ten minutes to spare. The only compartment with any room left was at the very end of the train, though it already contained Neville and Luna.

Harry sat down and proceeded to wait for Ron and Hermione. He found himself humming--or was it singing? He couldn't tell which it was.

_And you can call her Plain Jane_

_But she's driving me insane..._

_Damn it! Why can't I stop thinking about her?_ In truth, the reason he couldn't stop thinking about her was the leather miniskirt she was wearing today, and the sight of her bending over in it. How the skirt had ridden up to expose her milky smooth thighs. He thought of how it had continued to ride up, giving him a good view of her--

"Harry, do you know that you're drooling?" Luna's carefree voice floated through his thoughts. Now that he thought about it, his chin _was _kind of cold and damp. So was his throat. He looked down. He looked like he'd drank a glass of water too fast.

Mere seconds after a muttered drying charm the door to the compartment opened and what looked like a weird amalgamation of Dobby, Gilderoy Lockhart, and Alan Rickman, stepped in. She had Lockhart's too big smile, Dobby's massive green eyes, and Rickman's hooknose and shiny black hair. _Strange. This girl looks the way one would expect Snape and Lockhart's love child to look._ He shivered at the thought, struggling to control the urge to vomit.

The girl had her uniform blouse undone almost to the waist as she said, "Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda Vane. There's plenty of space in our compartment, you don't have to sit with these..." She let that statement hang in the air.

Harry looked disdainfully down on her attempt to entice him. _It's not like she's got anything to show_, he thought. "No thanks, kiddo. Now, if you'll excuse us, the grownups were talking," he turned away from her. "Oh, and button your shirt or you'll catch cold," he added over his shoulder. As the girl left in a huff, he was almost--_almost_--sorry for saying that, but did the term 'village bicycle' mean anything to that girl? He'd seen the graffiti in the men's toilets. Every other stall--at _least_--said something along the lines of "Romilda Vane will fuck anything that moves." Harry believed it, since no two that he'd seen had been in the same handwriting.

Come to think of it her voice sounded familiar..._Ah, yes. She was talking to one of her friends about an ice pick abortion over breakfast one morning last year. Hmm, somehow I don't think she was talking about the band._ _Must be muggleborn._

Harry was disturbed from his thoughts by the sound of a trunk slamming shut. He looked up and saw something he never expected to see. Well, he didn't expect to see it on the first day of school, anyway. Second day, maybe, but not on the train to school. He saw Luna changing into her school robes. She hadn't asked him or Neville to leave, so he wasn't going to go anywhere. _Apparently, she likes to go commando. _Luna turned around._ Wow! She shaves it! Wait...she's looking this way isn't she._ "Oh, bugger," he said. _Did I just say that out loud?_

"Maybe later, though you do appear to be enjoying the show," Luna said. Harry sheepishly looked up at her face. There was no sign of a blush on her face...or anywhere else for that matter._ Wait a minute. Did Luna just proposition me?_ _Huh, that's an interesting birthmark she's got there, kind of looks like a cross between a minotaur and a bighorn sheep. _

Five minutes later the door opened and Ron and Hermione entered the compartment. "Er, Luna, I've got a question for you" Hermione said.

"What is it, Hermione? Have you finally come to see reason and given up your foolish insistence that these don't exist?" Luna asked, pointing to the birthmark, which happened to be located on her 'Mound of Venus.'

"Why are you standing naked in front of Harry and Neville?" Hermione asked, ignoring Luna's question, not even looking where Luna was pointing.

Ron, however, had no such qualms against looking. "Is that a birthmark or a tattoo?" he asked, before Luna could answer Hermione's question.

"It's a birthmark, Ronald. As for your question, Hermione, they were enjoying the show," Luna said, indicating Harry and Neville. Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Plus Harry was going to bugger me later." Hermione's head snapped towards Harry as she gave him a dirty look.

"Just put your clothes back on Luna. If Harry is going to bugger anyone," Hermione said as she sat across from Harry, shooting him another dirty look, "it'll have to wait for another day."

As soon as she and Ron were settled, Hermione pulled out a small book she had found at Flourish and Blotts on enchanting muggle electronics, to allow them to work within the boundaries of strong magical auras, along with other effects.

Harry was just wondering how she had managed to find anything on that subject when Hermione spoke up, her voice piercing his thoughts. "Interesting. It says here that the charms and enchantments in this book are the only Ministry approved spells that can be used on 'Class J Muggle Artifacts--Electronics.' There are some fascinating enchantments in here. For instance, here's one that prevents CD players from skipping. Of course there's one for blocking magical interference. There's also a chapter on the creation of everlasting batteries, even an enchantment that allows any female electric plug to provide electricity without any connection to a power grid. Do you realize what some of this could do for the world?" she asked,

"No, but I have a feeling your going to tell us anyway," Harry replied. For some reason he couldn't explain, he was thinking, _Power! Unlimited POWER!_

"This could stop global warming. Imagine an electric car with no limitations on range or--" she was interrupted by Ron.

"Global warming? What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he asked in his most erudite and refined manner...at this point the narrator broke down laughing.

Ron, affronted, responded, "What are you laughing at?"

The Narrator struggled to compose itself. Finally, it was able to say, NOTHING, NOTHING AT ALL. YOU WOULDN'T GET IT ANYWAY.

"Oi! Just because you're a disembodied voice doesn't mean I can't hex you into oblivion!" Ron continued his rant, not noticing that the Narrator had moved on, ignoring him, and settling back down in his perch on the sill of the only window in the fourth wall.

Ron's friends had done likewise--ignored him, that is, not perch in the window of the fourth wall as they weren't from the proper dimension--Hermione applying some of the enchantments and charms to her CD Players, Harry searching through the stacks of CDs selecting a few. Luna and Neville were missing, having both left to use the loo, simultaneously, shortly after Ron and Hermione returned. They had left in a hurry, come to think of it, right after Neville whispered something into Luna's ear.

Ron settled down as the music started, though he occasionally shot glares at random corners of the room. It was during an album by Lita Ford--particularly the song "Kiss Me Deadly"--that everything went screwy. Well, screwier than normal anyway.

_Kiss me once_

_Kiss me twice_

_Come on pretty baby_

_Kiss me deadly_

Harry and Hermione locked eyes, and it was as if a spark ran through him. They flew together and started snogging, not caring who was watching. Harry's hand started trailing up her thigh, underneath her leather skirt. _I can't believe something like this is happening to me!_ Harry thought.

His venture was interrupted when she suddenly pulled back, and said, in a normal tone of voice that was quite out of place considering the situation, "Harry, we need to get going." _That's what I'm talking about!_

They went back to snogging, and this time his hand snuck its way up under her shirt, but before he reached his goal, she pulled back a second time. This time, she leaned forward as if to whisper in his ear. He could feel her breath on his cheek. She did not, however, whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Instead...

"Oi! Mate, we're there. C'mon, or all the carriages will be full." _Odd,_ Harry thought, _I don't_ _remember Hermione ever speaking in Ron's voice _before._ Oh God! I hope this doesn't mean what I think it does!_ His eyes, which he had previously thought open, suddenly snapped wide.

Ron had his chin resting on Harry's shoulder, so close that Harry could feel his best friend's breath on his cheek, and smell the nauseating mixture of aromas from all the foods Ron had eaten so far that day. Just from one whiff Harry could smell chocolate frogs and some rather foul Bertie Bott's beans--at least he hoped they had been Bertie Bott's beans.

"Ron," Harry said, in a low, deadly voice, barely restraining his anger.

"Yeah, Harry?" Ron replied, not moving from his perch on Harry's shoulder.

"Why are you sitting like that?" Harry asked, slowly, in an even voice.

"I dunno. 'Cause it's comfortable, I guess," Ron answered, still not moving.

"You have to the count of three to move, or so help me, I will stick my foot so far up your ass you'll be able to taste the gnome shit I stepped in this morning," Harry responded, his voice rising with every word.

Ron was puzzled for a moment, before replying, "I thought I smelled something. I didn't want to say anything because I--" He was interrupted by Harry.

"One," was all he said.

"You know it's rude to interrupt people when they're talking. Didn't those awful Dursleys teach you it's rude to interrupt people when they're talking? Now, as I was saying, I thought I--" He was interrupted again.

"Two."

Ron, his chin still resting on Harry's shoulder, started looking irritated, saying, "As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me--not once, but twice, mind you--I thought I...smelled...something...Oh, bugger," it suddenly dawned on him why Harry had been counting. The Narrator was on the edge of his seat.

Unfortunately for Ron, at that same instant, Harry said, "Three." Ron sprang up and ran at the same time that Harry started to swing.

Ron was running down the corridor of the train, screaming like a schoolgirl, "Help me! Help me! He's gonna kill me!" Most of the students from second year up laughed, but many of the first years, having never seen Ron Weasley, started casting nervous glances back in the direction he came from.

Harry and Hermione strolled serenely in his wake. Hermione commented, "What a drama queen," which caused the Narrator to collapse in a fit of giggles and fall from the window, knocking him out cold.

--

A/N: I couldn't resist breaking the fourth wall back there. It might be the last time, but I think I could turn Ron's anger at the Narrator into a full-blown Vendetta/Running joke. Also, the Narrator speaking in all capital letters is an homage to a certain series of books written by another British author.

When I said Alan Rickman, I do mean Alan Rickman, not Snape.

While I don't know of any band named Ice Pick Abortion, it seems obvious for some death metal band. That or a Cannibal Corpse song.

Finally

Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just write them up in a review and I'll try to answer the more interesting ones. I would prefer if it were something a little more substantial than "Good job, update soon," or words to that effect, or "YOU SUCK GET OFF THE INTERNETS!" and the like. If you liked it tell me why! If you didn't like it, tell me why!


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